Rebecca probably wouldn't have liked coming back to Broadway by herself, but being there with Sam helped her focus on the positive memories. Not just about the two of them, like stargazing from a certain crate she could still see on the bridge, but conversations with Ronnie slowly coming back from a watch post on sticky summer evening, or how much lighter her heart and shoulders were firing her new rifle for the first time.

Okay, a lot of the memories still circled back to Sam even if they didn't start out that way; she distinctly remembered Ronnie calling her out on grinning about more than the rifle that afternoon. As they walked a short distance along the overpass, getting away from the range they could take their ear protection off, the same thing must have happened again, because Sam gave her an evaluating look.

"What're you so giddy about? You can't be that excited just because I'm letting you cheat and walk a few dozen yards on level ground." She peered closer, and Rebecca's warming cheeks probably betrayed her.

"Just... good memories. Contemplating how being here with you makes me think of the good ones more, even those that weren't directly about you."

"Mmm." Sam's eyes twinkled with a mix of amusement and endearment. "A lesser woman might be jealous you have good memories that aren't about her."

They slowed as they reached a spot comfortably away from her mother's increasingly less hesitant firing and removed their helmets. Rebecca set hers alongside the guns in the wheelchair, which Sam had insisted they bring in case of an encounter with Sandra. "There you go with the sneaky traps again. If I say you're better than I deserve, I get in trouble for low self esteem. If I act nonchalant, then you'll accuse me of not appreciating you."

"Heh. You're learning, sugar. I'm not sure how I feel about that." Sam rest her elbows on the guardrail at the edge of the overpass, facing the space beyond, and Rebecca reclined against it next to her.

For a moment, she surveyed all the changes to the old settlement. It looked like there was a new hydroponics greenhouse in the final stages of construction, and even a couple of prefab sheds that looked like a miniature house and barn — much homier than all of the previous spartan and utilitarian structures.

The "gates" at each end of the bridge had been moved farther out into the blocks beyond, and more shipping containers had been added as proper fortifications. The side where the opening scenes of the battle played out had gained a pair of towers, and she could see the barrels of medium machine guns sticking up behind the sandbag walls. The other end of the bridge, where their SUVs were parked, had one large central structure with a wider mounted weapon that was probably the commandeered rotary minigun.

I wonder if it still has patches of Sam's duct tape on it?

With all the memories floating around in her head, she looked back at Sam and felt her heart stir. She stopped resisting the urge to lift Sam's chin and lean in for a brief kiss, possible lectures from Sandra proving an insufficient deterrent. Neither of them opened their eyes fully during the following seconds, and Rebecca spoke in a breathy half-whisper. "D'you know how hard it was to get that damned Katy Perry song out of my head the first few days? Especially after you jumped me in public?"

Predictably, Sam responded with a self-satisfied chuckle. "You didn't notice me humming it that one time?"

Rebecca rubbed the tip of her nose against Sam's before straightening and returning her voice to a normal volume. "Apparently I did, without realizing it. Tricksy hobbit."

"Hey! Watch it with the height jokes!" Sam whacked Rebecca's elbow with the back of her hand.

"Now you're just trying to get me to apologize so you can yell at me."

Sam just chuckled again and hooked their arms together, leaning against Rebecca with a content sigh.

Rebecca patted Sam's shoulder affectionately. "Here's to the good memories outnumbering the bad, huh?"

"Mmm. That sounds like a good plan."

Rebecca shifted her hand to massage Sam's upper back, which prompted the shorter woman to wrap her arms around Rebecca's waist and snuggle up against her chest. It was an awkward position for any kind of real muscle work, but crossing her arms over Sam's back let Rebecca's thumbs gently swirl along the opposite sides of her spine.

Sam groaned happily and nestled her head under Rebecca's chin, face buried against her clothing. She must have cleaned up while Rebecca was unconscious, as her hair carried a faint lingering whiff of homegrown mint. The only thing that would have perfected the moment was a light dusting of cinnamon. Still, the intimate proximity reminded Rebecca of the addictive exhilaration from all those early memories, and she happily lost herself in it until the sound of Laura's gunfire tapered off.

**

Sam's breath had grown so smooth that Rebecca was suspicious she'd manage to doze off leaning against her. She knew Sam would deny it, but roused her gently with a squeeze and a hand through her hair. Once she was confident she didn't need both hands to keep Sam upright, she waved to her mother and Erik at the far end of the overpass.

Sam nestled up under her opposite arm so she could watch them approach. "Do you think we've created a monster?"

"At least you already met her, so you don't have to worry about her grilling you, armed."

"Woo, small blessings." Sam's reply wasn't very energetic, and Rebecca worried whether she was just still blissed out or if the joke had been too close to home.

Oh boy. Not that it's her fault, but the coming weeks are going to be fun, trying to dance around the landmines without being insultingly blatant about it.

Given his barrel chest and accordingly booming voice, it was unsurprising that Erik hailed them first. "Well, ladies. We seem to have found a favorite."

Rebecca looked closer at who was carrying what, and recognized the MP5 she'd taken off the ambusher she — Uh, yeah, let's not think too closely about that. Anyway, it was slung over Laura's shoulder. She had mixed feelings about the choice, even if it made a lot of sense; the size meant Laura could hold it with two hands, and the pistol caliber 9mm rounds had a gentle kick.

But, Rebecca'd already had enough experience with guns associated with uncomfortable memories. Maybe she could peek in Trent or Allie's herb gardens, look for some sage to wave over it or something.

Back downstairs at lunch, after giving Laura a thorough and parentally ironic lecture about washing her hands, she couldn't help adding a little teasing. "Mom, are you sure you don't just like it because he recommended it?"

Her mother peered at her with narrowed eyes. "What're you trying to say, hmm?"

Rebecca lifted a hand placatingly. "Nothing, nothing. Fit and preference just ends up being an incredibly personal thing, what's right for me isn't necessarily best for you or Sam. I'm curious how you made the decision, that's all." She was glad Laura's eyes were on her and not Sam's credibility-undermining smirk off to their side.

"Mm-hmm. He said it was a proven, reliable design, and that if I use it in single fire, the big magazine means I might not have to reload."

Okay, yeah, fair. "You should still practice reloading though. Trust me, it's harder when all hell is breaking loose."

Laura rolled her eyes. "Okay, mom."

Sam was unable to suppress her laughter at the ironic jab, and the mood of the conversation remained light throughout the meal. Christine eventually joined them, and noticed Rebecca looking around questioningly when she didn't spot Patrick with her.

Initially, she glanced behind her in a swish of abundant blonde curls, then turned back to Rebecca with realization. "Oh, you're looking for my other half?" Her groan was punctuated by a roll of her eyes. "Don't worry, he's off bromancing with Doug again. Mister worked-in-a-hardware-store and Lance Corporal needs-a-wrench-for-everything got loose in my tool storage that I organized for these people last year. Now they're already adapting a radiator they found in a truck two blocks away, insisting it'll be even better than the original once they reposition this and rearrange that."

Rebecca chuckled, and gave Sam a quick affectionate grin. "I guess I'm lucky there's nothing electrical involved, or I'd be running solo too." Sam borrowed a play from her book and stuck her tongue out.

Laura chuckled, seemingly at everyone. "Ah, men. Tell me, does he also suffer the affliction where any time you mention a problem, he immediately tries to fix it? When sometimes he was just supposed to listen about it?"

"Yes. Thank you!" Chrissie threw both of her hands up from the table in frustration. "That's a trend, then?"

"Oh, yes." Laura nodded at Rebecca. "Your dear father at least managed to channel his extreme case of it into a career." Rebecca started to smile at that, but redirected to Sam's hand settling on her arm."

"Mrs. C, I'm not entirely sure it's fair to pin that only on guys. Rebecca is a very good listener, but she still tries to help with any little thing that comes up."

Rebecca started to defend herself. "Hey, that's not the same—"

Laura waved her hand to intervene. "You're both right. She's more of the 'wants to help everyone in sight' type, which is in the same neighborhood 'must fix things on sight', but still a little different."

Rebecca huffed, unsure whether she felt supported by Laura or not, and focused on Sam. "This coming from the one who has to upgrade anything that isn't as efficient or resilient as it could be. Anyway. Chrissie, does that mean it'll be drivable?"

Christine glanced back and forth between Laura and Sam to see if the sparring she'd set off was going to continue before replying. "Yeah, certainly more than it is now. Doug thinks they'll be done in a couple of hours."

Rebecca looked to Sam and Laura plaintively. "Please, we need to find Sandra. I want to get the hell home."

**

"Sandy, please. My eyesight's better now, I can see totally fine, and I haven't been dizzy all day, I swear." Broadway's nurse looked up from the blood pressure cuff with an expression blending sympathy and stern professionalism, enough of a dichotomy to give Rebecca pause. "I'm sorry. I know you're only telling me what's best. It's... just been a long road."

Sandy's face softened, and she laid her hand on Rebecca's shoulder after she finished taking a reading and removing the cuff. "I know you just want to get home, and I'm usually all in favor of patients who need to rest doing it somewhere comfortable."

"I'm sorry to be such a whiner about it."

Sandra's professionalism slipped and she let out a small sardonic laugh. "I'm just glad you were unconscious when I had to stick you with a needle this time. Though, I admit, your PTS symptoms seem to have continued the improvement trajectory I was seeing before you left."

Rebecca immediately glanced up at Sam, though her thoughts also went to Ronnie. "I had a lot of help."

"Indeed. Lift your hands, pushing back against mine."

Rebecca obeyed, following along with other exam steps as instructed. She flinched at the penlight in her eyes, but that was nothing new. Dilation's even, Sandy. I totally checked in the mirror before sitting down.

Sandra eventually leaned back with her arms crossed and lips pursed. "So, in addition to there being sufficient hands to attend to your needs, I honestly suspect that Sergeant Ellis, Sam, and your own mother will have more success keeping you in line than I would. All that help is the only reason I'm willing to clear you for travel today."

Rebecca knew the other women were laughing at her expense, but would happily take it as she hopped off the bed to hug Sandra in gratitude. When she stepped back, she noticed the eyebrow arch she was getting and hung her head. "Right. No sudden movements. Sorry."

"And no exertion for at least another five days. After that you can work your way back up slowly, stepping back and waiting again if any symptoms return."

Sandra seemed to be talking to Laura and Sam as much has Rebecca, and Sam nodded back. "She did promise to be a very obedient patient last night, after you left."

"Is that so?" She looked at Rebecca questioningly.

"I even pinky-swore."

"Well, good. After the outbreak, I've had enough of idiots not listening to medical instructions to last two more lifetimes."